House of Secrets
by Nijaded
Summary: In a world where the Dark Lord won the Battle at Hogwarts and Hermione is a Black and resides in the Malfoy Manor, the heroine finds a way to keep her sanity and to relive the past in an unusual way… AU, one-shot.


Author's Note: Just an AU, one-shot I thought up and wrote on my cell phone, finally got it transferred and edited and thought I would share. I have a soft spot for Draco/Hermione because even though he's not as ruthless as Lucius or redeeming as Snape he's still got his own issues and we all love him for that.

Summary: In a world where the Dark Lord won the Battle at Hogwarts and Hermione is a Black and resides in the Malfoy Manor, the heroine finds a way to keep her sanity and to relive the past in an unusual way…

* * *

House of Secrets.

'In the House of Secrets, I will tell you of loneliness. What happens here stays here, Say nothing… Disappear.' –Otep.

* * *

The manor is chilly even on the warmest summer nights. Before I always tried to figure out why, but I gave up searching for answers here. I simply don't care. It's just a bloody mansion; why do I care if it's cold or not?

In fact, I would probably be disconcerted if it was warm in here. It would be a bold-faced lie; the place was full of darkness, of evil, of death... there's no sense in trying to bring in any light or goodness.

Unnaturally quiet, it is, too. I would know. Too often at night I find myself roaming the never-ending halls and rooms when sleep evades me or nightmares drag me from repose. There are secrets hiding everywhere, I realized; taunting me when I close my eyes.

I was no longer confined to the cellar, thankfully, to be summoned when information was needed. Hell, I even dined with my gracious hosts in the evenings and most mornings. The Dark Lord had decided I was no harm to anyone, including myself, and I would not try to escape, even if there was the slimmest chance I would succeed. But then, why would I attempt it? There was no one out there for me to run to.

Besides, it wasn't terribly horrible in Malfoy Manor. I have access to the entire house but for the south wing, I have my own room filled with useful things, and I am not treated like the 'Mudblood' I was. It was almost laughable how blood purity was so sacred here, but I knew better.

Shortly after my imprisonment, Lucius informed me the New Ministry conducted a full background check on me and my family. Well, it was discovered I had no birth certificate with John and Helena Granger. Death Eaters did some digging, and suddenly, it was discovered my name and blood status had been tampered with.

I was no longer Hermione Granger, Mudblood extraordinaire. I was Cygnus Black's illegitimate child, the result of a brutal rape and failed killing curse.

The new knowledge took several weeks to sink in. I felt it wasn't just my name and blood that had changed. My whole identity was flipped around in one day; my life had been a lie from the start.

I supposed Voldemort had somewhat of a soft spot for those of us brought up as Muggles. It was the only reason I could think of why he would not want me killed until he discovered my gift for Arithmacy.

But despite my strange, new identity, I was still not free by any means. Being a Black, even half of one, I had to be educated in Pureblood etiquette, history, rituals, and way of life. Since the Malfoys were now my closest living relatives, my education depended upon them. It was the most eerily comforting eight months while I spent every day with either Draco or Lucius, or some of the portraits in the Manor, and filled parchment with information, much like at Hogwarts.

Despite all my new training, I'm still not considered a Pureblood. I'm a Half-blood at best because of what my father, Cygnus, did. When he realized he raped a Mudblood, he turned his wand on her but the spell backfired and killed him. My mother, a woman named Fionn Thomason, went mad after going through all that and lived long enough to deliver me nine months later.

Once I showed full comprehension and understanding of this new way of life, I was able to roam the Manor freely, so long as I kept out of the way and did as I was told. This wasn't difficult at all once the Dark Lord stationed his headquarters within Hogwarts. Now the Manor was only used for banquets or Inner Circle meetings.

I was useful to Voldemort because of my memorization skills, excelling marks in Arithmacy, and my background as Muggle, witch, and Order member. That's why I was not dead.

Maybe I should even have wished I was, but that was never who I was. My Muggle parents and friends may all be gone, I might be stuck in this place until my usefulness runs out, but I refused to crumble and fall in on myself.

I am Hermione Black now, and I want to survive; not become forgotten.

If I was able to toe-the-line and keep quiet, not disturb anything or anyone I could make it out alive, I believed. I didn't know how or when, and that didn't seem as important as the prospect of actually being free one day.

Perhaps I've just come to accept my life. I remembered I used to fight; made them torture me for information, force feed me for months, beat me so close to death that whenever I felt oblivion approaching I welcomed it and all its terrifying glory- but they pulled it back every time until I didn't want to die anymore, so scarred by the things I had seen and felt in those intimate moments.

"Hermione, what are you still doing up?"

I spun to see the owner of the quiet drawl was Draco. Sometimes he and his father are nearly indistinguishable, and become more so every day.

His hair was growing longer every day and he never even attempted to get it cut or just clean himself up with his wand. I wondered if he wasn't trying to become Lucius sometimes. His pale tresses fell over his face, hiding his piercing eyes, a perfect combination of grey and blue. Although he was lean his body was filled out now and at a full head taller than me, but still several centimeters shorter than Lucius, Draco was clearly a grown man.

But I had first-hand experience with this already.

"Couldn't sleep," I replied meekly, shrugging. Truthfully, I hardly ever slept these days.

He sighed and outstretched his hand to me, an expectant expression painting his features. Without hesitation I placed my fingers in his, and they laced together effortlessly as he led me out of the hall and back up the spiraling staircase. His fingers were warm. I marveled at the low heat between our intertwined fingers.

I've been here long enough I no longer secretly admire the lavish decor, the priceless art, and the haunting Dark artifacts adorning the dark walls in the manor.

This is my home too now and even though I know it has mysteries, its extensive and endless secrets… I know where he's taking me.

Draco's room is like any other young man's, I suppose. It's not clean but isn't messy either. He has a four poster with curtains just like at Hogwarts but I was surprised to find his room decorated in blues, greys, and blacks, with occasional off-white accents. The room itself is large, the walls lined with bookshelves, wardrobes, Quidditch paraphernalia, and paperwork; Draco's things.

The first time he ever brought me here I thought fondly of Harry and Ron and how their rooms were so similar in the strangest of ways; not in the obvious ways or by the contents of the room, just by how… boyish they were.

Draco must have been on his way to retire for the evening when he found me because he was still in his dark suit as he drew back the curtains and helped me onto the deep, expansive bed.

Loosening his tie, he stared down at me, almost in contemplation.

"How long has it been?" I ask him for the second time since I've been here. Last time the answer was sixteen months and I had felt my stomach twist in horror at that knowledge but I had to know.

I must.

"Two years," he answered, shrugging out of the coat and shirt, leaving him bare-chested.

I closed my eyes at the new knowledge, at the realization I was already twenty, yet felt like I was thirty.

The weight on the bed changed and I curled towards him. His arms came around my back and pulled me to his chest and I sighed from the security and unexpected warmth.

It was nice to be held.

The night Harry, Ron, and I were brought here was the most painful experience I could remember.

First being tortured by Bellatrix; my half-sister, I constantly had to remind myself; all over the whereabouts of the Sword of Gryffindor and then being questioned endlessly by Yaxley after Harry and Ron disappeared with Dobby. Then I personally met Voldemort for the first time, all in the Malfoy home where the owners stood by mostly passive, until they were punished for letting Harry escape with a House Elf, of all creatures.

Strangely, it was not as satisfying as I thought it would be to watch all of them writhing on the floor, like they had done me. I had to avert my gaze, huddled in a corner until it was over.

The Dark Lord instructed to keep me here, for if or when he needed more information from me.

I was frightened. For a long time I remained in the cellar; alone, clueless, forgotten. I desperately wished to know what was happening above ground. But I saw no one for what I assumed was months; only Wormtail throwing food in between the gated door.

And then Draco came to me one night.

From the emotions written on his face I saw guilt, sympathy, worry, but most interestingly, longing. Perhaps he was as lonely and frightened as I was, and that thought alone let me permit him to wrap his arms around me and carry me to his room.

This is the night I believe that Harry gave his life, but Voldemort still emerged victor. The night Draco's mother was killed for lying to the Dark Lord. The night our lives truly changed forever.

I didn't ask him that night but I knew I didn't have to. Why else would he come to his hated, childhood school rival, on that night?

Despite the knowledge that we are distantly related, I don't feel that distinction. I grew up an only child, and my parents were the only children in their families. I still don't really think of the Malfoys as family, or Draco as a cousin.

And that's why I let him caress me through the thin nightgown, let his lips brush against my neck, let his legs intertwine with mine as he pulled me closer.

It just never occurred to me to stop him because I didn't ever want him to. We don't love each other in that romantic way but we understand one another. He knows I'm still the bossy, eleven year old know-it-all and he's still the arrogant, twelve year old ponce.

But that's what we love about each other. He's the only memory I have of my life before this one. I look into his eyes, like chips of ice, and if I look deep enough I can still see the defiant, green glare of Harry's, or the brooding, blue eyes of Ron.

I see the halls of Hogwarts as it was before, Charms and Potions, Quidditch rivalries in rain or shine, a time where innocence and hope still lived.

It makes me wonder what he sees when he's staring so intently into my eyes... the same or the opposite; or maybe nothing at all. That's what I saw when I looked through a mirror.

We're both panting lightly, him looking down at into my face as I bit my lip and looked away blushing.

"I keep thinking how different things could be," he says quietly. I turned back towards him to study his expressionless face, and I see the tunnels of regret in his eyes.

Of course things would be different. Two years where Voldemort should have died and Harry lived was almost unthinkable. I tried wrapping my brain around it, but I just couldn't.

I would still be Hermione Granger. I never would have known my parents weren't mine, and that's something I wish I could take back. At least Hermione Granger was happy, confident, and optimistic. Hermione Black was scared, unsure, and barely skirting the edge of sanity.

On a good day.

"Tell me, Draco. I can't even imagine what it would be like," I whispered.

Then he smiled a true smile of reminiscent memories and I knew for a moment that he thought about the same things that I did. "Well, for starters, we would still be enemies, not cousins. Still can't wrap my head around that can you? Hermione Fionn Black..."

No, I couldn't wrap my head around it either. I sighed as he began undressing me, slipping my arms out of the sleeves and then pulling down my night shirt until it clung around my hips. His hands massaged my breasts as he began to nuzzle my neck.

"It all feels like a dream, Draco... as if I'm going to wake up tomorrow as Hermione Jane Granger, and all of this will be..." But I trailed off, unable to find the right words and uncaring as his mouth closed around my nipple.

"Be what?" He breathed onto the now wet flesh, causing shivers to roll up and down my spine. He took my nightgown off the rest of way, leaving me naked beneath him.

My breath hitched as his fingers found my wet folds and started exploring.

"Don't know... don't stop," I begged, letting myself soak up all the feelings, sensations, and emotions that Draco made and caused in me.

He chuckled lightly above me, and continued, "Then you would still be a Mudblood, running around and trying to change things. Can you even fathom that now after everything? Too late, Hermione… we were all too late, in the end…"

I moaned, struggling to make sense of his words while his fingers explored me. He was right though, I realized…

"Why, we would all have jobs now, out of school, and probably still find some way to be squawking over petty arguments," he mused, but his voice was hushed now, focused on his task of drawing out my pleasure. I didn't have to ask who all was implied when he said 'we.'

My back arched and I clutched his cool, silk sheets between my fingers. I couldn't take it anymore.

"Stop teasing…" I whimpered under him, reaching a hand to touch his strong jaw. He broke his ministrations as our eyes locked and he suddenly lowered his lips to mine in our first chaste kiss.

Never had he kissed me like this before, and I found myself returning his unspoken demand eagerly, my arms coming around his neck and back as he settled his body between my hips. My legs followed my arms, wrapping around his waist so in the next second he fully nestled in my body.

We gasped and moaned into each other's mouths as he drove into me, carrying us both into peaceful rapture.

When it was over, he held me to his chest and I clutched onto him just as tightly.

Granger never would have done this.

But I was Black now.


End file.
